“Give me a call if the ME notices anything different. Fingerprint the vic, secure the gas canister. If your men find anybody, call me.”
Ivy was impressed. She liked how Vaughn took control. Was grateful that his partner had decided to sit this one out.
“Got it.”
Delaney moved to his trunk and leaned inside while Vaughn turned to her.
“Want to go somewhere quiet where you can tell me about this prisoner’s dilemma? Fair warning, though, you’re going to have to go slow.Realslow.”
The quiet place that Vaughn chose was a hole-in-the-wall called Wailen’s on the east side of Jersey. A handful of men sat at the bar—a giant, single chunk of wood—but Vaughn led them to a private booth at the back. The way he moved suggested that this wasn’t his first time here.
A waiter approached. Old, gruff.
“Detective Ryan, how you doin’ tonight?”
Yep—he’d been here before.
“Been better.”
“I hear you. What’ll it be?”
“Pint for me. Guinness.” Vaughn looked at Ivy. “You?”
Ivy thought about it. She didn’t really feel like drinking. The effects of her late night out with Abby had faded, but she’d only slept a few hours before Sarah Kachinski called. Water would be ideal, but she crumbled under the pressure.
“I’ll have a lager.”
“Sure.”
“Hey, Mike? Can we get a couple of pieces of paper and a pen when you have a chance?”
“No problem. I’ll be right back.”
He left.
“So, I’m a special consultant now?” Ivy said with a smirk. Something to ease the tension. Take her mind off that tarp. Because beneath that tarp was a man. A man with...
Stop it.
“If you want to be. To be honest, we’re going to need you. Prisoners problem, dilemma, it’s all Greek to me.”
“Well, there’s some Greek to it, that’s for sure,” Ivy said with a chuckle.
Vaughn didn’t get the joke.
The waiter returned with their drinks and the paper. Vaughn took a long sip, three swallows worth. When he placed the beer glass down, Ivy saw him tilt his head and look at the word “Guinness” printed on the side.
“Not bad—split the G,” he said.
Ivy took a small sip of her own beer. Stared at Vaughn. “Nowyou’respeaking Greek.”
“More like Irish. First sip, you want to drink all the way to the middle of the G in Guinness.” Vaughn turned the glass around and showed her. The dark brown liquid came to just above the straight part of the letter G. “I went to Ireland a couple of years back. They all do it there.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really. So you wanna teach me about the prisoner’s dilemma?”
She grabbed the paper and pen. Ivy didn’t know much about “splitting the G,” but she knew math.
